The Hunter's Prey by Diane Whiteside Page B

as long as he kept doing it.  
    Ethan broke off the kiss finally and I laid my forehead against his chest.
    “Unbutton the jacket, Stephanie.”
    I shook my head to clear it and stepped away from him. He came into the room and closed the door, then leaned casually against it. He was dressed in black leather from head to toe, like a tough motorcycle rider. The leathers emphasized his body’s perfection and set off his blond good looks perfectly. Their rich smell made my mouth water, as if the sight of him wasn’t enough. I suddenly understood a lot more about folks with a leather fetish than I ever had before.  
    “Stephanie.” His voice was sharp and I shook myself into movement. I started to unbutton my jacket but hesitated at what it would reveal. I saw the stern look in his eyes; dammit, he didn’t look aroused at all. Just forbidding, like exam day from the strictest teacher in high school. I finished unbuttoning it and stopped, instinctively waiting for his next command. I was also nervous as hell about stripping off for him.  
    “Take it off and lay it on the chair.”
    I obeyed and turned back to face him. I kept my hands firmly at my sides, not letting them stray to cover me. Ethan had always liked my breasts, inherited from my German grandmother. I knew they’d be too much for my hands to cover, especially if I tried to conceal my crotch.
    I closed my eyes and tried to fight back my blush. Undressing just before you jump into bed is one thing. Exposing yourself at the beginning of the evening is quite another. Maybe it would have been easier if I’d broken my old rule and gotten drunk on bourbon.  
    “Kneel over the bed and spread yourself wide so I can see how well you shaved.”
    My legs were stiff and uncooperative as I went to the bed, giving him a long glance over my shoulder. I wanted to scream at him to do something, not just look. But I obeyed and waited for the next command.
    I didn’t hear him move, just felt the first blunt finger trail through my folds. I jerked in surprise and then twitched when he stroked me back and forth, just the way I like it. Slow and steady, not a direct attack on my clit. Problem was that my clit was more than willing for an immediate assault. I whimpered and circled my hips, begging for more action.
    “Hold still,” he snapped. I stopped, lashed by the sharp order, and waited.  
    “Dammit, Ethan,” I started to say.
    Two fingers played with me now. I bit my lip at the knowing touch, trying to stay passive.
    “Nice job of shaving,” Ethan remarked. I moaned when his thumb circled my asshole, an attention that I always enjoyed. I’d even flushed myself out there, hoping to encourage him. I felt the first shimmers of climax and started to let go of myself in preparation.
    His hands left me abruptly and I cursed at the interruption. Ethan slapped my ass hard and I jumped. “What the hell?”
    “Tonight you’re my woman, Stephanie. Everything about you is mine, including your orgasms. So you don’t come until I tell you to. And you never argue about anything I do.”
    His slow drawl was more commanding than a barked order by my former sergeant. My body was still more than willing to play but my brain started wondering what the heck I’d let myself in for.  
    “Looks like it’s time for your first lesson about who’s boss.”  
    My treacherous body trembled, obviously willing for any instruction he cared to give.  
    He sat down beside me and cuffed my ass casually. I jerked at the rough familiarity.
    “Get yourself over my lap, Stephanie. It’s time for your first spanking.”
    I stared at him. Spanking? I hadn’t had one of those since I was seven. I was sure his idea of a spanking was different from my father’s.  
    “Stephanie, move your ass.” Ethan dealt another, harder slap.
    I said something rude about domineering men. He cut that off with a series of rough smacks.  
    I took the warning and scrambled to drape myself over him. He tugged